


Mission Report

by ElaineB



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 22:25:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1834384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElaineB/pseuds/ElaineB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheppard has to explain why things went wrong during their latest trade negotiations...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mission Report

This time it wasn’t my fault the mission almost went to hell in a hand basket. It really wasn’t! I paid attention in the briefing that went on and on and… Um, I listened to Carson going on and on about why that Klaietag root was so very important right now, how the infirmary was full of sick scientists and marines, and more showing up hourly. I listened to Teyla emphasizing for the millionth time how vital it was not to disrupt the ritual, no matter what. I listened to the list of food stuffs we could get from them. I listened to the list of what I could and couldn’t promise them… Yes, I rolled my eyes in the meeting, but only because I had already gotten sixteen different memos about the same subject, and heard every bit they were saying again about five times over…  
But I digress. I didn’t zone out during the elder’s long speech, I ate all the right foods at that interminable dinner, I remembered to just touch my tongue occasionally with that drink the Marwans were swilling, I didn’t even lose my poker face when they started bringing out the, er, accoutrements of the ritual.  
No, it wasn’t Rodney’s fault, either. Three-quarters of his scientists were in the infirmary or confined to quarters with the Balmoral fever – okay, the Bal-whatever fever – they never make the names of the diseases in this galaxy pronounceable – so he was busily pretending to be a fascinated anthropologist, peering at everything with a myopic air. Probably channeling his inner Daniel Jackson; I know he spent some time with the guy.  
No, no, it wasn’t Ronon, either. The big guy was staring at the horizon with a glazed look in his eyes. At the time I thought it was his way of keeping his face straight; you can only chew the inside of your cheek just so long, you know. Later, of course, I realized it was because he was getting the fever, too, poor guy.  
No, I had safely and surely juggled the, ah, mahkti, the requisite number of times, resolutely ignoring the purple feathers stuck to my cheeks. I was just about to start lobbing the mahkti at the village fool as directed, when Teyla snickered.  
Yes, Teyla.  
Teyla, who had cornered me twice to solemnly ask if I understood how important it was that I do everything exactly as prescribed and that we all maintain the utmost decorum at all times.  
Teyla snickered.  
The elder’s face started to get red, so I tried to ignore her and go on with the ritual as if nothing had happened. I threw the mahkti one at a time to the village fool, who had started looking distressed, and Teyla said, “Oh, John, if you could see your face!”  
That’s when things started to get … tense. The elder shouted something that sounded like he wanted me to control ‘my woman’ – and yes, I know, I’m going to hear about that! – and the natives started getting restless, shifting foot to foot. So I went over to Teyla, wondering if she’d drunk more of that rotgut than she should, but when I got in front of her, I could feel the heat rising from her skin. Yeah, crap, she was sick.  
That’s when I noticed that Ronon was looking a little green around the gills, and also realized that Rodney was still quiet. I mean, Rodney is never quiet, certainly not when things are going wrong, so I was just about to turn to the elder and tell him my people were sick when I felt a splotch against the back of my neck, and something creepy sticky going down inside my collar.  
The village fool had thrown one of the mahkti back at me, with force, and it had burst. So, oh, goody, I had bright green goo on me to go with the purple feathers and the yellow spikes in my hair. That was not part of the ritual that I’d been told about. No bright green ever mentioned.  
Teyla laughed out loud.  
I, um, managed to convince the elder that all three of my teammates must be coming down with the fever, otherwise they would never have desecrated the ritual – yes, that was the word he used, desecrated – and I got him to let them head back to the Gate, unharmed but escorted. Yes, they were unharmed when they left the village; I hear Rodney tripped over a rock and that’s how he broke his ankle.  
Me? Uh, no, they weren’t about to let me go so soon. Seems there was a ‘make up for messing up the ritual’ ritual, and that was up to me, too. I don’t remember much about it, except it involved drinking a lot of Cleekta, and no, I couldn’t get out of it, not without losing the Marwans as trading partners. That one small bag of Klaeitag root that they gave to Ronon before they shoved him through the Gate was only good for about five or six people.  
When they finally let me go, I was suffering from the worst hangover known to Man, but I was clutching eight large bags of the root, and the token of agreement for the treaty that said we could get more. Yes, that is why I spent three days in the infirmary. No, it didn’t have anything to do with the fact that the purple feathers wouldn’t come off before then or that I still had green goo on my back. As you can see, the yellow in my hair is still there. They tell me it will be gone after my next haircut.  
At least I didn’t get the Balmoral fever. Although I heard that the drug synthesized from that root did a really good job clearing it up in about 90% of the people who took it.  
Say, is it me, or is it hot in here?


End file.
